Patrick's Turn
by MyLittleYellowBird
Summary: Shelagh learns how to surprise Patrick.


A/N: Be warned. I'm blushing as I post this.

* * *

She was quickly growing quite used to this. As bad as their difficult time had been, the making up had certainly made it all worth it. And making up... and making up...Learning to trust Patrick, and herself, had made for a deeper intimacy. And tonight, it seemed, Patrick was eager to revisit that closeness.

Shelagh had been nearly asleep when he slipped into their bed. A night call had sent him out into the dark again, and she hadn't expected him back for a few more hours.

"Ooh, you're cold!" she snuggled up against him. His lack of pyjamas clearly hinted that he had come to bed prepared for activity, not sleep. "Patrick, you must be exhausted. Go to sleep. We can in the morning."

"I thought you like our middle of the night adventures?" he coaxed.

"I do, but you're too tired."

"I'm never too tired."

"Well, you should be. You need your sleep."

He lay still for a moment, and she thought she had convinced him. But then his hand, now warm, started to glide over her hip. "Tell me what you need," he breathed. She moaned softly. He was using his foolproof method. Shelagh had little will to stop him when he whispered like that. "Tell me where you need me to put my hands."

With a quick movement, he rolled her towards him and took her mouth with his. His kiss was slow and deep, and his hands held her against him. One more move, Patrick knew, and she would be completely his. He lowered his head to her collarbone and nibbled the delicate flesh there. Her head fell back against the pillow, and she let out a deep breath.

"Tell me what you need," he repeated.

Words wouldn't come, so Shelagh returned his kiss, her own hands stroking his shoulders. He was so attentive in bed. Her pleasure seemed to fire his own. There hardly seemed a time anymore when Shelagh did not take as much pleasure from their union as Patrick did.

"I love you," she moaned against his lips. Her hands slipped down his back, resting on his buttocks. She felt him shudder, and laughed. She squeezed gently, and he moaned, a bit too loudly. "Shhh!" she scolded, but squeezed again. Her hands slid down the sides of his hips, moving slowly, and were suddenly caught.

"Wait. Shelagh, no…"

"No?" she asked. Her tone became huskier. "Why not?"

"Shelagh, if you don't stop, I won't be able to slow myself down."

She grew quiet. "What do you mean, "'Slow yourself down?'"

"Sweetheart, I am absolutely crazy for you right now. If you keep touching me like that, or how I imagine you were going to touch me, I will explode _right now_!" He placed her hands safely on his shoulders, and returned to kissing her, making his way down to her enticing breasts. Shelagh moaned, reveling in the feel of his lips on her. "Tell me what you need," he whispered.

Suddenly alert, Shelagh pushed against him, rolling their bodies until she lay atop him and looked down at her husband. He was relaxed, and aroused, but not _so_ aroused. He was in control of himself. She wondered if he was always in control, until those last moments. "No," she whispered. "Tell me what _you_ need!"

Surprised, Patrick lay still as she began the same torment he enacted on her. Her lips slid down his neck, biting and flicking her tongue against his rough skin. The stubble excited her in ways she couldn't explain. "What did you mean when you said 'how you imagined' I was going to touch you?" Her hands grew bolder.

"Shelagh. No."

"Patrick. Yes." She kissed him as deeply as he had her. He relaxed beneath her, their tongues caressing, hands gliding. "Tell me what you need," she breathed. "Or should I guess?"

He laughed. He could not dream of her ever guessing his hidden desire. "Three guesses, and then I can have my way with you."

"You don't think I can guess, do you?" Then and there, Shelagh made a decision. Patrick had always devoted himself to her pleasure, while she had taken his for granted. Tonight, it would be about him. Sliding her legs wider, she straddled him. "I think I might surprise you, Dr. Turner."

"I'd like to see you try, Mrs. Turner!"

With a giggle, Shelagh pulled her nightie over her head and returned to his neck. She had no idea where she was supposed to go with this. What could she do to add to this experience? Looking up into his face she noted his closed eyes, the small smile. He seemed quite content, but not mad with passion. Determined, she slid her hands down his sides. 'May as well start where he stopped me,' she thought. Slowly her fingers traced the muscles just above his hips. He stirred, and his breathing changed slightly. Enjoying this sense of control, she slid her hands across his abdomen and spread her fingers wide. He gasped.

"I think I definitely will surprise you, Dr. Turner," she teased. His only response was a deeper breath. Keeping her hands against him, Shelagh kissed her husband deeply. He was definitely not in control, now. Her lips traced the edge of his jaw, slowly moving down his neck to his collarbone. Nibbling there for a moment, then moving lower.

She realized that before, his kisses had roamed her body, driving her to distraction. Perhaps a similar tactic would have the same effect on him? Shelagh dropped slow kisses across his chest, tasting him as he had her so many times. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own and slid beneath his hips, pulling him against her. It was strange, this new position. She could feel his arousal pressing against her center and could feel her own trembling. She was losing control. She would somehow take him inside her, and quickly. They were reaching that point when she knew she would climax soon.

His hands gripped her hips, guiding her. Shelagh gasped and looked at Patrick's face. His eyes watched her, and she realized that he had regained some of his control. Taking a deep breath to slow herself down, she said, "Not yet, I'm afraid, my love."

His eyes grew puzzled as his wife slid off and over to his side. Reminding herself that this was to be his night, Shelagh returned her fingertips to his abdomen, watching his face. His eyes glazed over again. "_This_ seems to have some effect on you. I think I will definitely be surprising you tonight. I wonder where I should go next?"

Patrick moaned, and clenched his hands into fist to keep him from reaching for her. Her hands were driving him mad. He knew this would have to end soon, she couldn't possibly know what could happen if she continued this way. He would let her touch him like this for just a few moments more, and then he would take the situation back into his own control.

But in that next moment, his mind fogged over. Shelagh's hand had slid lower. She sensed this change in him and finally knew what to do and let her hand take him. He gasped, "Shelagh! Please!"

Breathing deeply, she started to stroke up and down, amazed at her own boldness. He felt good in her hand, hard and smooth. She had never realized it would seem so alive, pulsing and warm. Shy, she pressed her blushing face against his shoulder. It would be easier to continue this if she didn't look at him.

Very soon, Patrick was writhing beneath her hand, gasping. "Shelagh, please," he called out. She tightened her grip ever so gently and felt him shudder, pulsing in her hand. The strangeness of this new touch disappeared, and Shelagh sighed, slowing her caress. When he had calmed, she placed her hand on his chest and kissed him. Trying to catch his breath, Patrick laughed. "That was a surprise!"

She smiled against his skin. This new knowledge thrilled her. She was now truly a partner in their lovemaking. They lay quietly together for several minutes, when Patrick rolled her on to her back, "Now, I'll surprise you."

Shelagh smiled knowingly. His talented fingers had shown her pleasure before, and she relaxed into the anticipation. But his fingers did not find her sweet core. Rather, they wrapped around her waist as Patrick began trailing kisses down her front. His tongue darted out, stroking across the peaks of her breasts. "I know you like this." She moaned, wanting more. He slid his hands beneath her bottom, squeezing as he continued to lave her nipples. "Yes, Patrick," she breathed.

Pulling himself away from her lovely breasts, Patrick placed slow, wet kisses on her belly. "You like this, too," he whispered again. And again, she moaned. His kisses moved down lower on her abdomen, his hands holding tight to her hips. "Please," her heard her breathe. "Yes," he answered. He _would_ please her.

He moved his left hand away from beneath her, slowly stroking the skin as he trailed to her center. His fingers knew their goal, and she bucked beneath him as they caressed her wetness. Already incredibly aroused, Shelagh squirmed beneath his hand, urging him further. In her distracted state, she did not notice that he had shifted his weight until his mouth replaced his fingers. Holding her still with his hands, he kissed her sweetness, ignoring her cry. "Patrick! Oh, Patrick. What…"

And then the words disappeared as she spasmed, the breath gone from her lungs in the exquisite pleasure he was giving her. A sound, _that_ _sound_, Patrick thought, escaped her throat. A soft, high sound that gave him nearly as much satisfaction as the low groans from his own climaxes. He kissed her thigh as she quietened beneath him, breaths coming raggedly. Shelagh lay there, returning to earth, and felt him move back up in the bed, drawing her into his arms.

They lay quietly together, breath mirroring breath. "I guessed correctly, didn't I?" She asked.

He laughed again. "Yes, dear." His eyelids heavy, he thanked her. "That was very nice."

"Nice?"

"Understatement," he sighed.

"Oh. All right, then." She pressed even closer. "Patrick, dearest, will I have to guess-"

A quiet snore rumbled through his chest. Shelagh smiled. He had certainly earned his rest. As she fell asleep wrapped around him, Shelagh decided she liked guessing.

* * *

In the morning, Patrick found his wife in the kitchen, filling the teakettle. He stepped behind her, placing his hands on the sink, trapping her back against him. "Good morning, sweetheart," he crooned in her ear.

Shelagh spun around, clamping her arms around his neck. Her response was to kiss him, deeply, but the sound of Timothy' s noisy feet on the stairs forced them to separate, flushing. They had moved apart quickly, but Tim's eyes caught the awkward pose each had assumed. "Ugh. You are so embarrassing. Can I please just eat my breakfast without you two making eyes at each other?"

His chair scraped across the floor. "I forgot to tell you. Guess what Mrs. Wynfield said I could do for the science fair next month?"

Patrick laughed. "Ask your Mum. She's good at guessing."

With the eyes of her boys on her, Shelagh answered primly, "Yes, I am. I know my boys _very_ well. Timothy, _you_ will be building a volcano." Cracking an egg against the griddle, she added, "And _you_, Patrick, you will be getting a bit of your own back later!"

A fierce red blush flooded Patrick's face. "Dad, what did Mum guess about you?" Tim asked innocently. Patrick coughed, sat down, and hid behind his morning paper.

"Mum?" Tim asked. Shelagh busied herself with the eggs.

"Adults are so strange," Tim announced.


End file.
